


let's meet again soon

by theadventuresof



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, PWP, Role Reversal, come on and sin and welcome to the bin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4808567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theadventuresof/pseuds/theadventuresof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He plays the part well. Too well, Light thinks with a shudder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's meet again soon

 DECEMBER

 _I…I had to test this just in case, but I—I never thought it would actually happen,_ L says. The first words he addresses to Light, and certainly not the last. It’s only after the live broadcast is over that Light stops to think about L’s voice. He had been decidedly out of breath. Odd, Light thinks.

* * *

JANUARY

The first night that the surveillance cameras are in place, Light cannot sleep. The fact that his life is in danger, that his fledgling world is in danger, suddenly feels more than real to him than ever. Light supposes he’s not the only one under surveillance, but he imagines each camera like a pair of eyes, staring, boring holes in him as he curls up under the blankets and arranges his limbs into what he hopes is a normal sleeping position. Light, though, he’s good at concealing things, so he closes his eyes and slows down his breathing and tries to imagine what this faceless entity, this bizarre being on the other end of the cameras is thinking. He’s heard his voice—Light is sure that the altered voice that came on after he killed Lind L. Tailor is L’s—and he can almost, _almost_ imagine a person to go with it, only the person is blurred and shadowed to match the distorted, breathy voice he had heard…

Light remembers those moments after the broadcast ended, remembers his panic fading and giving way to—to something more than anticipation, some powerful combination of satisfaction and eagerness and intensity. So this is how it begins. At last, L. It’s about time.

In his mind’s eye, the faded, shadowy image of L gives him an imaginary smirk, buzzing like television static, and Light feels a twinge of that same something in the region behind his navel.

 _I…I had to test this just in case,_ says L’s voice in Light’s head once more, _but I—I never thought it would actually happen…Kira! It seems you can kill people without having to be there in person._

Something warm and pleasurable is spreading in Light’s abdomen and he probes the skin with two fingers, softly, softly— _I know you’re watching this, L, I know you’re watching me—_

Light imagines L’s voice purring in his ear, filters and all, imagines his breath against Light’s skin, and a whimper rises in his throat. Everything is throbbing; he can feel his blood pounding mercilessly in his skull, his ears, his chest, his pelvis—and he adjusts the pillow so that he’s a bit more visible, so that L will get a good view of his face.

_Watch me, L._

The fingers slip farther down and soon another hand joins the first and Light is no longer performing; this is real, this is not a show for L’s benefit. He sighs and squirms satisfyingly against his pillows, his thighs slick with sweat, and perfects his rhythm. Slow, deliberate, even strokes gradually quicken and become more desperate, rough, and now he’s losing himself, moaning frantically, and his back is arching and his toes are curling and his face is twisted, contorted, livid and marvelous and ecstatic and he spreads his legs as far apart as they’ll go and opens his mouth in a wordless cry—he’s gasping, scrabbling for purchase against the sheets, his lips moving in the shape of a single letter and his body is not his anymore but he thrashes in bed, hot and magical and mad and _oh,_ he has never felt anything like this before—

He collapses in a limp tangle against the mattress, his head buzzing like the image of L behind his dazzled eyelids, and before the world slips away in a violet haze, L’s voice whispers softly:

_Let’s meet again soon, Kira._

Fade to black.

* * *

APRIL

Light writes the script for the task force’s reply to the second Kira’s video, and L records it using his own voice and the pre-prepared voice filters. He invites Light to watch him do it, no doubt to incite some sort of reaction.

He plays the part well. _Too_ well, Light thinks with a shudder. This is not the same feeling Light felt watching the second Kira’s video—the _imposter’s_ video. This is—definitely not disgust.

Ryuzaki is gone; the man before him in the recording booth is someone else. If Light himself wasn’t Kira, he would say—he laughs internally at the hilarity of the thought—that L was Kira. This man is not slouching, nor is he mumbling into a teacup. L commands Light’s script with a perfect balance of elegance and authority, bringing Light’s words to life, and for a not-so-fleeting moment, Light wishes that they were on the same side.

“I am the true Kira,” L pronounces coldly, the words hanging in the air. “To the one who also claimed to be Kira, if you misuse my name again, I will have no choice but to punish you.”

It’s only after he leaves the hotel that it occurs to him that L plays Ryuzaki just as well as Light plays the hardworking honors student.

* * *

 AUGUST

“I am Kira,” L hisses against Light’s jaw, leaves a trail of bite marks down to his collarbone. “I am Kira.” Rough and low and throaty and _perfect_ and Light’s entire core shivers and he brings his legs up and hooks his ankles around L’s thighs.

“Kira,” Light is panting. _“Kira—_ I will catch you—I will end you—“

“L is mine,” L hisses against Light’s jaw, with a twisted laugh. “Mine…”

Light throws his head back, feels the small of his back pop off the mattress involuntarily as he cries out, and he loves the sound of his own desperate moaning and he does it again, louder, louder— L is gasping into his ear, pressing his lips onto every bit of exposed skin he can reach, sinking his fingernails into Light’s hips, the insides of his thighs, the area between his shoulder blades. Light seizes a handful of L’s hair from each side of his face and their mouths collide, hot tongues and frantic wet lips and sparks of heat dancing between the two bodies...they’re both slick and sweating and trembling from the exertion and pleasure and Light loves how blatantly unprofessional this whole situation is, detective and suspect in bed together, playing each other’s part.

“Those of you who refuse…to cooperate…will be _—ah—_ punished,” L says, his perfect speech faltering slightly. “I—will create—an ideal world— _ah Light—”_

“Ryuzaki,” Light gasps. “Faster. Go faster.”

 _Call me L,_ L breathes against his skin. And again, “Call me L,” he moans aloud, his pace quickening.

“L,” Light whispers, the letter falling from his lips like a secret. “L—L—L—”

It’s a beautiful sound, Light realizes as if from afar as he comes, and he screams the name and writhes helplessly underneath the detective, their bodies pressed impossibly close together—perfect, this is perfect—

He’s wet, but for the time being that’s all right—for the time being _everything_ is all right, and he falls back onto the mattress in a pleasure-induced stupor, warmth spreading across his pelvis. Another wonderful jolt of pleasure, and one more—his climax isn’t quite over yet—and as his muscles contract again L shudders as he's pushed over the edge...

“Light,” L gasps, roleplay forgotten. _“Light_ I’m going to—“ He’s squirming, wrapping his arms around Light’s now limp form—

 _“Light!”_ L cries, flings his arm down onto the mattress. He keeps repeating Light’s name like a spell and he curls his hands into fists, smacks the bedside table with the heel of one hand as he convulses, and buries his head in the pillow, obscuring his face. Light watches his shoulders shake, watches the dip between his shoulder blades tremble.

It’s a while before he rolls over and Light is able to adjust his position and remove himself from beneath him. L’s hair is strewn all over his face, hiding his eyes from view, and eyeliner is running down his cheeks.

“Still can’t show me your face?” Light asks him.

L takes a shaky breath in response. Light is reminded of the first time he heard L’s voice, out of breath and intrigued, when he provoked Kira on live television lifetimes ago.

 _Let’s meet again soon, Kira,_ Light hears once more, before his vision fades to black.


End file.
